sky blue that stretches over plains of Midwestern farmland; Above the sparse, worn-weary homesteads embraced by acres of corn and welcoming earth tread by decades of youthfully bare feet those skies Laced and spotted with clouds as if woven by amateur knitting, graceful patterns interrupted by knots and gapsnot corrected, but left lovingly flawed; The sort of honest, endless, beautiful blueaged without being old, aware without being cynical, wholly natural but without an immunity to magic Eyes that sing of hard work, humor, humility, home. [11/5] I burn my lips on coffee to get to the whipped cream before it melts. I lost half a finger to lukewarm water, Dollar Store soap, and an ill-timed lullaby sung over a sharp knife. I sprained an ankle sliding down a slick steel roof drunk, invincible, desperately young. No amount of posted warnings can stop me from hitting my head on low-hanging beams, No recommended serving sizes can stop me enjoying entire jars, boxes, bottles, No well-intentioned offers for walks home after dark can stop me from loving the lucid loneliness of standing solitary under the stars; Redundantly: Give a canary a college degree in perils and precautions, But change the smell of explosive sulfur with whiskey and cologne; flickering shaft lights with sunset glinting off a smile; the threatening quake of unstable earth with the gentle drum of fingertips against starved skin It will love the mine for its certain, annihilating collapse Not in spite of pain But delight in it.